In honor of all the mush-gushy-gooey-lovey-dovey stuff February always inspires, I thought I would dust off an old piece – I’ts simple and maybe a little silly, but it always makes my heart smile . . .

When I was a little girl, I dreamed, as little girls quite often do, of the man I would one day marry. I just knew he would be a super hero. He would have the ability of flight, the power to read minds, and he would obviously be capable of leaping the tallest of buildings. Our lives would be filled with adventure.

Then one day I realized what a silly little girl fantasy that had been, Super hero, ha! I was going to marry a rock star of course. He would have totally cool hair and look amazing in spandex. He would compose epic ballads about our love and dedicate all his albums to me.

One day though, that dream faded as well. I came to realize men simply don’t look good in spandex and I would never want to spend my life with someone who had better hair than I did. I was growing up and my dreams were growing with me, I realized I would obviously need someone quite rich to make me happy.

The older I grew though, the more I simply wanted companionship. I soon concluded unless I met a man who had a huge inheritance, he would have to work all the time to make the big bucks I thought I desired, leaving me alone and miserable. They say money cannot buy happiness and I believe them.

So, I would marry a free spirit, an artist perhaps or a wandering poet. We would hitch-hike the world with only our love to guide us. This was the most fleeting of my fantasies. I’d heard hitch hiking was dangerous; I really hated camping out and the thought of snuggling up after being on the road for a week without a shower was more than a bit unappealing.

So that left me only one choice, I came to the final conclusion I would never marry. I would make my own way in the world without the pressure of finding that perfect man. I was at peace. It sucked. I knew I really didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life so I decided to simply wait and see who God would send my way.

I tucked my dreams of the man I someday may have married in a little pocket of my heart, keeping them safely hidden away. Those dreams hadn’t crossed my mind for years until one afternoon, while folding boxer shorts and matching up itty bitty baby booties, it hit me like a ton of bricks . . .

It had happened. I was married, had been for some time actually. My dream of a lifetime love had become a reality while I wasn’t paying attention. My dream man can’t fly nor can he leap tall buildings, and thank God he can’t read minds, but he is a super hero of great magnitude in the eyes of our children.

He could never be a rock star, keeping time to the rhythm of a beat is not one of his strong points, he does sing softly with the radio sometimes, it always brings a smile to my heart. His doesn’t have to tease his hair each day and thankfully does not own any pants made of spandex.

He may not be rich, but he works hard to provide for us. The love we share makes us wealthy beyond measure; the happiness in our home could have never been bought.

He is more of a perfectionist than a free spirit. He’s soft-spoken and sweet. He may not be a poet, but his whispered words of love are precious and sincere.

I’m glad I’d forgotten to remain true to my vow of solitude. God, in his infinite wisdom, had sent to me the perfect love and made all of my dreams come true.

Crystal R. Cook